


lay-by

by kokko (bwoozi)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Road Trips, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwoozi/pseuds/kokko
Summary: What’s outside the window may change—dreams may turn to reality with the blur of the horizon before him, but Wonwoo can accept it all, can watch it before him like it’s on a screen. And if it were a movie, Soonyoung would be flush against him, the light behind his eyes dimmed by the glow of the display.





	lay-by

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triggerswaggiehavoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/gifts).



> ahhh... i was not scared to post this until i found out my recipient was bryn. oh my god. bryn, i'm so incredibly humbled by how beautiful and just... all around great your writing is? this feels inadequate now knowing that it's for you... i went with side ships that swn like, so that scares me too... here's to hoping you like chansol!!! i took this fic in such a different direction than i originally intended, but know that it initially was inspired by the song you put in your wishlist <3 it lead to me drawing inspiration from other songs to write it! writing this fic was so much fun, too... i'm so happy and NERVOUS knowing that it's for you asdjkhj i seriously look up to you and hope you love it a lot :')
> 
> notes:  
> 1\. this fic was originally going to be written so that it could be read in time to [a playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSf1h1wUdZo&list=PLs_SjWNa9c9wHI0wagIQ0Zs5H3LhOjluL&index=1), and while the sections are titled after each song in the playlist, i doubt they sync up as i had intended, time wise. it's an instrumental/ambient playlist so i do recommend you listen while you read, whether you just let it play or play each song with each corresponding section. you don't have to, but it is a Vibe...  
> 2\. i know jack shit about the US of A. i've been to three (3) states and none of them are present in this fic, so im sorry fsdhkjdh  
> 3\. soonyoung, wonwoo, and chan's relationship is meant to be a little ambiguous, but they aren't romantically or sexually involved, they just Adore Him. which is relatable
> 
> i think that's all! thanks so much to amber and sanjula for beta-ing this baby, i couldn't have done it without you guys <3

_autumn leaves_

The sun descends upon them like the title screen of some cheesy soap opera, with telephone poles whirring by and flocks of birds appearing as black silhouettes against a sea of deep orange and gold.

Fall isn’t coming anytime soon. And honestly, it doesn’t feel like anything is coming anytime soon, despite what Wonwoo swears is the scent of leaves turning color, August nights gradually getting cooler as September approaches. The wind is crisp when it blows through his open window and he finds himself reaching for the blanket crumpled in the back seat of Soonyoung’s car that hasn’t been touched in months, goosebumps having formed on the tops of his arms. Everything feels temporary and everlasting, a week seems both too long and too short, college approaching as some sort of imminent entity, but with less gusto this time—the fourth year should be easier than the last three. That’s how it’s going to be for Soonyoung and Wonwoo, but Chan’s going to be a freshman. He’s lucky, though. He’s at least got friends who can buy him alcohol legally.

And that’s what they do on a particularly deceitful August night, a foreseeably futile attempt at calming Chan’s nerves, an evening trip to the liquor store on the way up the hill that overlooks their hometown. Stray dirt and gravel crunch under the tires of Soonyoung’s car when he pulls up to the liquor store and his breaks squeak upon stopping, snapping Wonwoo out of whatever train of thought he was following, watching the sky desaturate and turn to night. The street lights have yet to come on, but it’s not eerie around the liquor store. It’s tucked into the least threatening strip mall of all time and isn’t too shabby inside—that setting sun pours in through the front window and casts funny shadows across the shelves and on the floor, lights Soonyoung and Chan’s faces while they poke around the snacks. Soonyoung keeps scanning Chan’s face for approval when he takes something from the shelves, and Chan shakes his head each time, says he can’t eat when he’s nervous. Then don’t be nervous, Soonyoung says for the umpteenth time that day. And then Chan sighs and tucks the bag of chips under his arms anyway.

Admittedly, Wonwoo had been spacing out somewhere in the middle of the store staring, so he’s not surprised when the man at the counter asks if he needs help. He dismisses it politely and follows Soonyoung to the fridges that line the back, eyeing the beers with a furrowed brow while Chan stands there nonchalantly.

Wonwoo catches him mid-sentence. “...might like to start with hard soda, or something.”

Chan huffs. “I’ve had beer, Soonyoung.”

“Yes, but do you _like_ beer?” He challenges, crossing his arms and smirking in his direction. It’s affectionate. Wonwoo finds himself mimicking it.

“…No.”

“Me either.” Soonyoung admits. Wonwoo laughs, wiggling his fingers in his pockets and stretching his shoulders a bit. “So, for this occasion, Mike’s Hard Lemonade.”

The necks clink together when they’re placed on the counter, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, and Chan all staring awkwardly at the cashier. It’s then Wonwoo notices the hum of the music playing in the store—it’s that low murmur that’s so characteristic of liquor stores, where you can barely tell what song it is, just hear the guitar and the bass and a suggestion of words. It’s almost like elevator music. Liquor store music. Wonwoo’s glaring at the wall behind the counter like it’s his greatest enemy, apparently, because Soonyoung waves a hand in front of his face.

“Why’re you looking at the lottery tickets?”

At least he wasn’t looking at the condoms, right? The cases are right next to each other—a bunch of scratch-offs and the like are stacked in this rotating octagonal thing and the condoms are locked up beside the cigarettes. There’s a split second where Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung in the eye, past Chan, who stands between them, and Soonyoung smiles just the slightest bit.

So, about that split second:

Wonwoo could’ve said “I dunno.” The man behind the counter would’ve said “have a good night” and Soonyoung would’ve grabbed the booze and started out the door. Wonwoo’d look at the back of their heads as they left and followed them out, greeted immediately by the sound of cicadas crying out for the last time that night, the earth would continue spinning and the air would be just the same.

But what Wonwoo really says, without much purpose, is “you should buy a lottery ticket.” Soonyoung snorts and Chan bursts out laughing, but through it all, Soonyoung asks the cashier for a Mega Millions ticket. Wonwoo still watches the back of their heads walking out behind them, still hears the cicadas and the birds and still plants his feet on the same ground he always has. He gets back in Soonyoung’s car and watches him tuck the tiny sheet of paper between his dashboard and his window. They finish their drive up the hill and find themselves, similar to many other nights that summer, at a spot towards the top with a clearing and a run-down picnic table. It’s a bit clichéd and they certainly aren’t supposed to be there so late at night, but they’re there, chips and hard lemonade and all. They sit on the table and rest their feet on the bench.

The hill is pretty big and doesn’t have too many trees due to its steepness on one side, so it serves as a nice view of their hometown, an underwhelming suburb that Soonyoung and Wonwoo have learned not to be angsty about. It’s charming and there’s joy to be found in the mundane things—impulse buys, driving with no place to go, hard lemonade on a rotting picnic table, watching the street lights go on and the sky turn to dusk. The birds on the telephone poles will fly away in mobs again, the sun too low to obscure them this time. In the moment, when the town lights up, Soonyoung beams. The first time he drove Wonwoo and Chan up to see, he whooped with excitement—it’s amazing that he even reacts at all now, with how many times he’s spent his night in this spot. Wonwoo doesn’t think much about it. Chan’s ranting about something on his second drink, his head laying on Soonyoung’s shoulder.

Maybe Soonyoung isn’t the type to get sick of things easily. He moves on from things pretty quickly, though. Perhaps finding new things to do before getting bored of the old things is the way to do it. Wonwoo really doesn’t think too much about it.

The town’s pretty small, even from up here, Wonwoo thinks. Soonyoung’s giving Chan advice, a hand rubbing gingerly at the small of his back. Doesn’t Soonyoung ever feel suffocated? He just seems too grand for something so underwhelming.  Wonwoo doesn’t think anything about it at all, just acknowledges the thought. It whirs past him like a billboard on a highway, the horizon line a blur past the scaffolding of it.

Specifically, perhaps most poignantly, Wonwoo doesn’t think much about the lottery ticket. He still doesn’t expect anything anytime soon and, as he’s realized, doesn’t think about anything in particular. The night feels like a fade to black. The next scene starts, sometime much later or much earlier, and the dialogue shifts out and then back in, ambiguous and unassuming.

 

_we used to talk every night_

There was this one night where the power in Soonyoung’s dorm went out when Wonwoo had been there, thunder rumbling over the pouring rain and the two only able to see each other when lightning struck. The RA had gone door-to-door with lanterns and, despite the fire safety rules set in place by the college, candles. And Soonyoung’s room, being at the end of the hall, got stuck with the world’s saddest tea candles, unscented and covered in dust. Wonwoo was grateful either way—especially considering that the RA didn’t urge him to return to his own dorm. Thank God. At that point, he’d kind of wanted an excuse to spend the night with Soonyoung, and his residence hall was on the other side of the campus. Soonyoung’s roommate at the time was dating someone on Wonwoo’s floor, so that’s probably where he was. They lie in bed together by the light of the tea candle, their finance notes strewn across the floor around them.

It must’ve got Soonyoung thinking.  He scoots a bit closer to Wonwoo, a gold flicker plastered across his cheeks. He giggles to himself before asking, “Wonwoo, what would you do with a million dollars?”

“I don’t know.” (In Wonwoo’s head, in this moment, they’re sitting under a gigantic oak tree, and sunlight filters through the leaves. He convinces himself he can’t hear the rain, both because it’s lulling him to sleep too fast and because it’s almost offensively loud, the deluge dripping down just past the dorm window in fat droplets.) “How about you?”

Soonyoung thinks for a while. “Pay off my student loans, first. Then buy a house, one in a nice area with a lot of things to do, not too big… maybe by the beach… then buy a sturdy, new car… then save the rest.”

He tsks. (The birds in the figurative tree above them sing louder when the thunder roars.) “That’s not very Soonyoung of you.”

“Jeez, Wonwoo, sorry I’d make smart decisions with money if I was given a lot of it.”

“Let’s say you already have a house, a car, and your student loans paid off. Then you get a million dollar trust fund or something. What do you do then?”

“ _Then_ I’d do something fun.” Wonwoo can feel Soonyoung’s smile against his shoulder. “Oh my God, I’d buy an arcade. It’d have all the best machines and be super fucking cool. And just the most badass laser tag course you’ve ever seen, Wonwoo. I could play everything for free.”

Wonwoo beams at the thought. (The sun comes out from between a cluster of leaves. That’s why Wonwoo’s eyes squint so much into it.) “And you’d make money off of it, too.”

“Exactly. Investment.” Soonyoung is pleased with himself. “What about you?”

“I’d travel the country, and when I got sick of it, I’d travel the world.” Wonwoo had been thinking while Soonyoung was explaining. He won’t admit that he wasn’t really listening to the content after “I’d buy an arcade,” just enjoying Soonyoung’s voice so close to his ear.

“Alone?”

“No, not alone.” That’s the last thing Wonwoo remembers before Soonyoung had finally caved in and pulled the blanket over both of them, resting his head on Wonwoo’s chest and laying an arm over his waist. The tea candle went out on its own eventually, the wick drowning in wax just as the campus outside had in water.

It’s a strange conversation to recall, especially when the circumstance is that the hypothetical has become a reality. That reality is much further in the story of Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung, though—there are other things to elaborate on.

The important thing is not how Wonwoo and Soonyoung fell in love or even that they’re in love at all, it’s just that they’re together. That’s always been the most important thing. Even when they were just two people in the same circle of friends in high school and were usually together around other people, they were together. Sometimes they’d talk every day for a month or go a month without talking, but it never mattered, they were always the same Soonyoung and Wonwoo when they got back in touch. The main reason Wonwoo doesn’t think the “falling in love” part is important is because he doesn’t think it even happened in the first place, it just always was. That’s what it felt like, at least.

The truth is that it happened slowly, through conversations or maybe in between them, so slowly that neither of them could’ve possibly noticed. And it got to a point where it felt like a given—it never felt extraordinary or magical, like the way it always seems in the books and the movies Wonwoo loves so much, it was just _there,_ and that wasn’t a bad thing. If anything, it made him more overwhelmed with love for Soonyoung, knowing that he couldn’t picture what his life was like before him. Surely it wasn’t bad, but it’s so much better now.

It keeps getting better. The longer they know each other, the longer they love each other, it gets better, until it reaches a point where they definitely can’t continue being just friends who kiss each other. It takes a while, but they get there.

Soonyoung asks Wonwoo to be his boyfriend the night before the Mega Millions numbers are announced.

(It didn’t change the fact that, on that night in their first year of college, Wonwoo didn’t remember telling Soonyoung he’d bring him around the world, and certainly didn’t remember mumbling “I like you” into his hair before he succumbed completely to sleep. What he did remember was the power coming on the next morning with the sun, which shone through the trees outside of Soonyoung’s dorm just as it had in his head the night before.)

 

_lay-by_

In a show of excellent luck and coincidence, Soonyoung _does_ happen upon a million dollars, give or take—and, miraculously, very minimal debt from school in the first place. All that being said, the most puzzling part is that Soonyoung credits his good luck to Wonwoo. Wonwoo, of all people. Wonwoo, who spaced out momentarily at a liquor store and made a ridiculous off-hand comment. If he really believes that, then Wonwoo supposes Soonyoung hit the jackpot by asking him out. Literally.

There was a lot of sorting out finances with lawyers and accountants before Soonyoung had the money to spend. He didn’t tell Wonwoo what he was doing with it at first—Wonwoo would try to get it out of him, desperately, tickling him to no end and whining in his ear to just _tell him,_ and he doesn’t. Not until their winter break, right before their second semester. He’d pulled an RV into Wonwoo’s family’s driveway the morning after Christmas day. Even though Wonwoo didn’t immediately know what Soonyoung wanted to do with it, he had an inkling, and ran from his front door in his pajamas to catch Soonyoung in a tight hug the second he stepped out of the cockpit. Soonyoung could only scream in elation and squeeze him back, rocking back and forth while Wonwoo looked over his shoulder to admire the vehicle—homely, not too big, just enough room for the two of them. Wonwoo had two Christmas mornings that year. He didn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to wake up in that RV all summer—he’d soon find out that he’d have many mornings like that.

Soonyoung eventually explains that he wants to travel the country, like Wonwoo suggested all that time ago in their first year of college, and that he wants to do it like birds, heading west with the warm weather. Wonwoo has no qualms. How could he not be excited? Some weekends, he and Soonyoung just go home to Soonyoung’s family and sleep in the RV in the driveway, talking until the sun rises. They had a way of telling stories before they even happened.

The thing is, when it comes time for stories to be told, Wonwoo doesn’t feel like he has many—the beauty of a story is that you can choose where to start it, but Wonwoo is indecisive. The day they set off should naturally be the beginning, but when that day comes around, it doesn’t feel special at all. Not that it was disappointing—it just felt like a dream, or like deja vu. Perhaps that’s because Soonyoung is trying to keep up with the night he got the lottery ticket. Naturally, the mini fridge is stocked with hard lemonade, and more importantly, Chan tags along. He’s a lovely addition, in part because his independence guarantees Soonyoung and Wonwoo time alone. Perhaps the story started when they picked Chan up? Though that didn’t quite feel real either…

Perhaps Wonwoo really opened his eyes to what his life was the first time Soonyoung referred to the RV as “home” and not “the RV.” If he remembers correctly, it was at 3am in an iHop, after a long night perusing a small town they decided to spend a few nights in—Wonwoo really thinks Soonyoung might be the only person who can finish off a full order of pancakes. He’d yawned after the server had given them their receipt, lips sticky with syrup and teeth peeking beneath them—he left a big tip just because he could, or maybe because he felt bad for the poor woman waiting tables at such an hour. Either way, he signed his name and slung an arm around Chan, who was nearly asleep at the table, and said “Let’s go home.”

It’s a funny thing for your home to be in an iHop parking lot. That’s the beautiful part about it, though—Wonwoo thinks he likes the definition of “home” the more abstract it gets. His home moves. It treads across the highway alone in the smaller hours before sunrise, casting headlights into the dark and lulling its passengers to sleep. Thank God Soonyoung can stay awake to drive, because Wonwoo often fails to stay up beside him, eyelids feeling heavy and taking him in and out of consciousness. Sometimes, in his fatigue, the road seems to spread  out in front of them rather than fade into the horizon. It all feels very grand.

They’d stopped plenty of times before reaching the ocean, but Wonwoo feels like he’d shut his eyes for a moment that night and woken up to the moon over the water, the echo of crashing waves audible all around him. For some reason, he didn’t think that the waves would still roll after sundown—the image is glorious. The sound is even better. If it’s a dream—if any of this is a dream—it’s a very good one.

What’s outside the window may change—dreams may turn to reality with the blur of the horizon before him, but Wonwoo can accept it all, can watch it before him like it’s on a screen. And if it were a movie, Soonyoung would be flush against him, the light behind his eyes dimmed by the glow of the display.

 

_7:00am_

A typical day in the life of Kwon Soonyoung (and, consequently, the life of Jeon Wonwoo and Lee Chan) goes a bit like this:

6:30am - In this example, Soonyoung, Chan, and Wonwoo are still sleeping in the loft, all three of them soon-to-be victims of an early Summer morning somewhere on a lake in the middle of the country—this was a time that Soonyoung couldn’t quite decide where he wanted to stay, so they were only in each town for a few days. Wonwoo can’t recall what state they were in at the time, just that the night got so _cold_ in comparison to the day. He’s a bit too tall for the bed and the blankets on it. That’s magnified when his toes are left out at the end, chilly enough to wake him early, around fifteen minutes before their alarm. In this time, he pulls his legs up, careful not to stir whoever he has his arm slung over or graze them with his freezing appendages, and cuddles closer to them, eyes still shut. This morning, it’s Chan.

7:00am - The alarm. Soonyoung stretches into a yawn, his arms spreading out and back going taut. Wonwoo reaches across Chan to touch him and can’t quite reach. Not that it matters, because Soonyoung is out of bed before the next minute, shooting upwards and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Wonwoo is too lazy to coax him back into bed for a while more, especially when Chan is so close and so warm. He presses his feet against Chan’s ankles and the younger whines.

7:06am - Wonwoo thinks Chan is scrolling through Twitter? Or something. Maybe reading the news, but he’s sat up a bit more, forcing Wonwoo to sit up as well. His eyes finally open. The sky is cloudless and the birds are chirping. Soonyoung starts the coffee maker below them.

7:45am - He’d started the coffee maker only to realize that he was out of coffee filters, so he and Wonwoo decide to head out to one of those hole-in-the-wall cafes that Soonyoung loves so much. The cafe is sleepy, fragrant, and has the cutest outdoor seating, with scalloped yellow umbrellas looming over worn wood tables. They brave it with sweatshirts and lattes, waiting patiently for the sun to come up over the lake and warm them. Soonyoung holds Wonwoo’s hand across the table; they don't talk much simply because they don't need to. Chan stays in the RV and uses the hot water made in the coffee maker for tea. He hasn't acquired a taste for coffee.

9:36am - The caffeine must not have helped much—Soonyoung and Wonwoo wake from a nap they don't particularly remember taking. A note on the fridge says that Chan is out for breakfast with some guys he met at a fair the other day. Chan having taken the rental car, the two are stranded in the RV unless they want to try to get an Uber in the middle of nowhere or take the whole RV out. They decide to make the most of their time and promptly undress each other.

10:45am - Chan comes home, thankfully after Soonyoung and Wonwoo have already showered and made the bed. He turns the TV unceremoniously and the three gather at the dining booth to watch it before Soonyoung is due to head out for lunch. “Is it still Netflix and chill if you chill first?” Soonyoung asks when the screen goes red. Wonwoo looks over to see that Chan’s face mirrors that, and it’s not from the light of the TV. He laughs wholeheartedly when Chan hits Soonyoung in the shoulder.

He holds his head in his hands. “Jesus, did you _really_? I thought you were looking at each other funny this morning…”

11:29am - Soonyoung is singing _and_ dancing while wiping down the counters. Loudly. It occurs to Wonwoo that he only kissed him once or twice earlier when Chan was out and that he would like to again, so he does, sweet and chaste. He then joins his impromptu kitchen performance, much to Chan's amusement.

12:11pm - Wonwoo sometimes wonders where and how Soonyoung manages to meet so many people, considering he prefers smaller gatherings to clubbing (though he does go every so often). It's practically a party under the awning of their RV—Wonwoo sits among them for a while but finds that they're much too loud for him. He isn't bothered, just can't find much to contribute to the conversation. He retires inside without any fuss, leaving a lingering kiss on Soonyoung’s forehead. The noise outside turns to a comforting murmur, Soonyoung’s laugh easily heard above the mix of voices.

12:31pm - Soonyoung and his group of friends head out for lunch, “friends” being the people he met at a bar the weekend before. He has a knack for meeting cool, interesting people in each town they stay in—sometimes Wonwoo feels a bit plain. Plain must be what Soonyoung needs, though. Otherwise he wouldn't keep Wonwoo around, right? He's fully aware of how much Soonyoung loves him.

Chan slips his swim trunks on and hands Wonwoo a tube of sunscreen, which he dutifully rubs into his back and shoulders.

1:20pm - Wonwoo doesn't think he'll ever get sick of just sitting at the beach. Whether it’s a lake or the ocean, there’s just something about the fresh air and the sand everywhere—between the buttons on his phone, behind his ears, under his fingernails. It’s never bothered him. Chan’s head rests heavily on his bony knees, dampened locks casting drops of water between them. If Soonyoung was there, he’d probably be yanking at Wonwoo’s wrists with one hand and waving a frisbee around with another. Wonwoo might groan, but that wouldn’t really bother him either. He trusts Soonyoung and his ability to have a good time.

2:37pm - Soonyoung comes home when Wonwoo is in the shower, rinsing sand from his body. He enters without knocking to use the bathroom and sits on the sink until Wonwoo comes out. It’s cute that he’s so impatient—he’s sweating from the steam but still silently insists on kissing Wonwoo and saying hello as soon as he possibly can. Wonwoo drips onto his clothes, but complies nonetheless.

3:40pm - The day begins to wind down. Soonyoung announces that he has plans for dinner as well, which isn’t abnormal. Wonwoo pre-emptively decides that he and Chan will get Chinese—Chan never says no to Chinese food.

4:11pm - Soonyoung sings again. No dancing, simply because he’s sitting, legs dangling over the edge of the loft bed while he scrolls through his phone. It’s something between a hum and what sounds like a lullaby, but listening closely, it’s just some pop song that he’s taken a liking to, slower and more angelic now that it’s in the hands of a distracted Soonyoung. He sings softly but the RV is quiet enough that it echoes off the walls. Wonwoo, as it seems, is in love with him; in moments like this, it’s not much of a surprise.

4:58pm - Soonyoung’s dinner plans ended up cancelling. It’s a pretty normal occurrence and he’s never too upset about it—it gives him more time to spend with Chan and Wonwoo. In the moment, however, he whines, no real genuity in his tone. Chan remarks that “You can’t expect everyone to be able to keep up with you, hyung.”

“You’re right.” Soonyoung says with defeat, glancing at Wonwoo from where he’s leant on the driver’s seat. Wonwoo meets unexpectedly worried eyes and immediately finds interest in the chip on the corner of the dining table. His mind races.

5:01pm - Why did Soonyoung look at him like that?

 

_affection_

Wonwoo doesn’t know when Chinese started to taste like that uneasy look in Soonyoung’s eyes or what that look even tastes like, he just knows that it does. This is present even weeks after the fact, in the next state over, when Wonwoo goes to dinner with Chan late on a Saturday night. Those nights are typically the nights that Soonyoung goes out partying—this night is no exception. He left to some house party with someone he’d gone to dinner with.

In his contemplation, the restaurant around him is relatively silent, but still has an ambience that allows him to drown in his thoughts. He feels a bit like there should be a freeze frame where he narrates himself, maybe a comical record scratch and a deadpan of “I bet you’re wondering how I got myself into this situation,” Wonwoo’s fingers disturbingly stiff around his chopsticks. The day is warm, but not humid, and has been kind to him so far. It’s nice to spend so much time with Chan, but his boyfriend would be more than ideal, especially when Chan is looking at him like that.

“What’s up?”

Well, if Wonwoo’s honest…

It’s suddenly troubling that Soonyoung doesn’t belong to him. And not in a possessive way—it’s not like that and he would never want it to be, Soonyoung’s just so painfully extroverted. Wonwoo can never quite wrap his head around how eager he is to meet new people, and while he admires it, it’s stressful for someone who doesn’t like strangers.

He worries about Soonyoung’s safety when he goes clubbing or out to a bar. He knows that Soonyoung is smart and would never overdo it when it comes to alcohol, but he always waits for Soonyoung to come home before falling asleep, even if he has to wait until sunrise. For some reason, there’s guilt accepting Soonyoung’s apology rather than brushing it off. He would say “it’s fine” if it was, right? It should be fine.

Moreover, he’s upset that he feels anything in the first place. The numbness he’s accustomed to isn’t a depressed one—it’s habitual and rather clueless, but keeps him from being hurt. Soonyoung may have had him anxious for a while but he existed as more of a bystander to that rather than the person who’s experiencing it in the first place. It’s disconcerting. It’s like his life is a slideshow, sometimes. Soonyoung notices when he’s on edge before he himself does, hence the stomach-turning look from him those few weeks ago.

Apart from his own feelings, his biggest concern is the permanence of he and Soonyoung, and moreover, the permanence of Soonyoung himself. He often wonders if Soonyoung will just leave little pieces of himself everywhere until there's no Soonyoung left.

“Thinking,” Wonwoo mumbles finally, around a mouthful of stir fry. Chan shakes his head and smiles.

“You do that a lot.” Chan tries to make eye contact with him, but fails, choosing instead to sip at his water. He lets Wonwoo mindlessly shove food into his mouth until the silence is uncomfortable. “Are you—hyung, you have sauce on your chin—what’re you thinking about?”

Leaning back in the booth, he wipes himself with a napkin. There’s no point in lying to Chan—he either already knows or he’ll get it out of Wonwoo in the next ten minutes. Soonyoung is the same way. Wonwoo supposes that’s what happens when you grow up with someone. “Soonyoung… and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Chan cocks an eyebrow.

“And stuff.”

He sighs, deep in his chest. “I won’t bother you about it, but I can tell you’re over thinking whatever it is.”

Well, he’s always been perceptive. “Thanks, Channie.” There’s a little pause where Chan finally meets Wonwoo’s eyes—they look hollow. Maybe Chinese was a bad idea. The two breathe in simultaneously...

“But if you want to talk about it—”

“Why do you think Soonyoung—”

..and blurt out their next thoughts simultaneously as well. That’s what gets Wonwoo smiling again—he can see the satisfaction in Chan’s eyes when his shoulders loosen. He doesn’t wait for Wonwoo to finish his question.

“You gotta understand that Soonyoung likes people, but he loves you. You know? He sleeps in your bed—well I mean, our bed, but you get what I mean—every night, even if he comes home late.”

Wonwoo nods. He doesn’t have much to say anymore because he knows that, he _knew_ that, and there’s likely not much more to say on the matter—Chan’s smart and has known Soonyoung since they were kids. Wonwoo trusts that. It doesn’t mean something still feels off, but he’s at ease. He can relax. He feels warm.

The food was delicious and tasted more like the reassurance in Chan’s eyes than anything else.

-

There’s this boy waiting for Chan when they come home. From what Wonwoo’s collected from being where they are for the past week, he seems like the typical Floridian college student, complete with a muscle shirt, Nike slides, and longboard in tow, though he must admit there’s something in his smile that screams “nice and respectable boy.” He’s not sure when Chan met this boy, but he must’ve seen that in him. He hugs him tightly under the awning with his arms hooked around his neck, this adorable blush spreading across his cheeks, sheepishness crawling up his arms and making his shoulders tense. His name is Vernon. He asks permission to take Chan out and Chan argues that Wonwoo isn’t, like, his guardian. Wonwoo begs to differ. They’re precious, though, walking away from the RV with their fingers interlaced inconspicuously.

Wonwoo’s own palm tingles, almost itches. He wants to hold Soonyoung’s hand like that.

He steps into an empty RV and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on, instead electing to curl around a pillow in the loft and wait patiently for Soonyoung to come home. He can’t find an exact reason that he’s lonely, he just is. He loses track of time yearning for Soonyoung, counting how many hours of the day he’s been out while toying with the corner of his pillowcase.

Soonyoung does come home, eventually. It can’t be past midnight because the RV park is still relatively active, lights on in other vehicles around them, pouring through the doorway when Soonyoung opens it and stumbles in. Wonwoo’s heart races when he scales the ladder and stops completely when he freezes at the top, eyes glowing slightly and brows softening upon seeing Wonwoo.

“You’re home?” He asks, now kneeling and ducking at the end of the bed. He sighs, dazed, and smiles with immense relief. “You’re home,” He says again, falling forward onto the  pillows in front of Wonwoo. He grabs the pillow that Wonwoo held in his place and fits himself there. “Channie’s gone and the lights were off, I thought you wouldn’t be home, but you’re home…” His breath smells faintly of vodka and he slurs his words slightly. Why does he look like he could cry with happiness? How much did he have to drink?

“Did you have fun?” Wonwoo asks quietly. All the touchiness he felt earlier has somehow disintegrated—he feels shy with Soonyoung looking into his eyes so intently. Soonyoung lies just far enough from him to make eye contact and reach across to run a hand up and down his arm.

“I had fun, but I missed you. I missed you.” He always repeats himself when he’s drunk. It’s cute. Wonwoo grins warmly, lets Soonyoung play with his hair.

“Thank you.”

Soonyoung’s hands are tracing Wonwoo’s face, down his nose and cupping his cheeks. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes, Soonyoung, missed you so much.” Wonwoo says it like he’s appeasing a child, but embarrassing as it is, he honestly did.

“Did you hear Channie has a boyfriend? What’s his name? Vermont?” Wonwoo cackles, hiding his face into the pillow under his head. Soonyoung giggles and trails fingertips down to cover his widened lips. “Vernon?”

“Yes, Vernon.”

“I like him.” He’s quieter now that Wonwoo has inched too close for him to look into his eyes, now that there’s a heavy arm draped over his waist. “He’s a good boy.”

Seeing Soonyoung has put Wonwoo so at ease that he can’t even continue the conversation. He can’t even nag Soonyoung to put pajamas on—his shirt smells like cigarettes and sweat but that’s alright, because if Wonwoo runs his hands up under it, Soonyoung is there, right underneath the palms of his hands. “Yes, he’s a very good boy.” Wonwoo wouldn’t really know that, considering he said about three words to him. He agrees because he’s tired.

“Don’t go to sleep yet.” Soonyoung begs. It’s ironic because he’d only seen that Wonwoo’s eyes were closed after opening his own. He musters up some energy to kiss Wonwoo, slow and loving, complete with fingers curling into his shirt. Wonwoo can hardly kiss back. “I love you. Good night.”

Miraculously, Soonyoung isn’t hungover the next morning. Chan had come home at some point and fallen asleep in the bed, but Soonyoung stayed clinging to Wonwoo through the night. That morning, it was one of those sunrises that felt like a reset, like nothing from the day before had happened in the first place. Wonwoo’s not sure if that means he goes back to being worried about he and Soonyoung or he forgets about it altogether.

For now, it slips his mind.

 

_ euphony  _

Sex in an RV is quite a feat to accomplish. The trick to getting it right is to make sure the AC is on and one of the loft’s windows are cracked, but the problem is, when the sex is as exhausting as it is good, it’s easy to forget about that. Wonwoo wakes up in the middle of the afternoon in the same position he was in hours earlier, on his side and smooshed against Soonyoung’s back, completely naked save for the sheet he had pulled up to cover the two of them. It is an absolute _cesspool_ in their bed, sheets damp from sweat and pillows smelling of drool. The worst part of the entire situation is that Chan is the one who rouses them, the easily recognizable sound of the door closing and his shoes falling to the ground ringing in his ears. Wonwoo’s too exhausted to get up—he just hopes Chan doesn’t come to the loft.

He hears Chan yawn before stepping up into the living area and calling to them. “I’m home—oh my God. Oh my God. It fucking _reeks_ in here.” It really does. Wonwoo feels bad. He must’ve really done a number on Soonyoung if he’s sleeping through Chan’s dry heaving and the subtle creaking of him climbing halfway up the ladder with his eyes covered to reach for the AC unit and turn it on max. “I hope you know that I spend every waking moment trying to forget what you guys do in this bed.”

And Wonwoo spends every waking moment hoping than Chan forgets, too, because what would he do if Chan decided to start sleeping downstairs again? More importantly, what would Soonyoung do? On the occasions Wonwoo wakes up wearing Chan like a backpack, Soonyoung spends the whole morning fawning over them, complete with pinching Chan’s sleep-swollen cheeks and kissing the corner of Wonwoo’s eyes, where yawn-induced tears fall. Wonwoo loves it just as much, if not more, to see Soonyoung’s forehead pressed against his, hand running soothingly up and down his side. He teases Soonyoung about having a crush on Chan, and that’s not necessarily untrue. It’s entirely platonic, as affectionate as it is—Wonwoo’s adopted the same feeling. They secretly dread when Chan stays at Vernon’s.

All feelings-as-in-emotions aside, though, Wonwoo still feels gross. Chan sighs to the closet below them and he honestly can’t blame him.

“Do you want me to throw clothes up to you?” He asks.

“Yes, please.” Said right into his ear, naturally this is what rouses Soonyoung. He stretches his arms out with a small groan and Wonwoo shushes him with his lips on his nape.

Chan’s undressing and rummaging doesn’t last very long before he stills, laughing helplessly. “I take it back. It looks like we’re going to have to fight over the last clean shirt.”

Soonyoung’s already turned around and kissing incessantly and sleepily at Wonwoo’s lips, even when Wonwoo laughs into his mouth.

“Well, whose shirt is it?”

Wonwoo can hear Chan putting his clothes from before back on. “I can’t remember.” That says a lot, doesn’t it? “How about I go outside so you two can strip the bed and find something in the hamper that doesn’t stink?”

“Is showering first permitted?” Soonyoung mumbles. Chan’s foot is already out the door—he pops his head back in.

“Separately.” He deadpans.

“That’s a waste of water, Channie.” Soonyoung’s morning breath tastes worse when he’s whining.

Wonwoo pulls the sheets off when Chan shuts the door, patting Soonyoung’s butt in encouragement and starting down the ladder to the living area.

He’d forgotten it was Sunday; every other Sunday is laundry day.

-

No matter where they are, the local coin laundry is always the same, like they exist in some sort of parallel universe that opens up with each ring of the bell at the front door. Wonwoo realizes that thought might be a bit outlandish, but there's some truth to it—the similarity of it all is comforting. They're all far too outdated for their own good, adorned with rackety old washers and tacky linoleum floors. This laundromat happens to have black and white tiled floors, as in real tile, which is nice, especially on top of the two CRT televisions on either side of the place, a gentle hum of the evening news playing on one and some sort of food show on the other. Though he’s sat reasonably far away from the TV, rereading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for the third time, Wonwoo’s stomach growls. Soonyoung and Chan stand in front of two washers, piling wet clothes and sheets into the dryers above. Soonyoung giggles when Chan has to use the stool to reach the coin slot. Wonwoo says to play nice and Soonyoung  replies that he will, but noogies Chan on the way back to the benches before plopping down with a look of feigned innocence. Wonwoo smiles silently through Chan’s grumbling, and as soon the dryer picks up, the coin laundry is quiet again, just the three of them and two attendants in the back room.

Soonyoung focuses so intently on the TV that his mouth goes agape, palms resting limply on his stained sweatpants. Wonwoo only now realizes that the show is about food around the US—a dangerous topic for Soonyoung. The last time they played the travel channel in the RV, Soonyoung was driving them to Memphis for barbecue before sunset. Soonyoung’s quite fond of the town they're in now, though, so it doesn't seem like he'll be eager to leave anytime soon. Florida has been kind to him, offering a plethora of predictable vacationer activities and warm weather.

His eyes shift to stare wistfully out the front window, where the sun dips into the ocean and the wind rustles the palm trees. “Where haven't we gone that we should go?” He asks out of the blue, tapping his heels on the floor, flip flops sliding up his feet a bit. Wonwoo lost his spot in his book at least five minutes ago, so he dog-ears the page and lays it in his lap. He'd rather listen to Soonyoung than Francie.

“New York City?” Chan yawns in suggestion. That’s cute—Wonwoo remembers Vernon mentioning that he used to live there. Soonyoung hums.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that there aren't any RV parks in New York City.” He frowns. Chan nods in agreement, stretching his arms and placing them behind his head. “But I’ll take you one day, Channie.”

Chan rests his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, smiling slightly. “California? San Francisco?”

“That would be good. It's a long way from here, though.” Soonyoung's brows furrow. “Since it's July, Channie goes back to school in a little more than a month, should we start going west soon?”

It takes a moment for Wonwoo to realize that Soonyoung is looking at him. “Are you asking me?”

“Of course. You have more sense than I do.” Soonyoung shoots him a comforting grin, exaggerating the squint in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose. “Wonwoo, is there anywhere you want to go?”

_Anywhere, as long as it's with you._

“Arizona, maybe.” He says instead, but Soonyoung knew what he meant by the way the corners of his lips turned up. He kisses them—Chan, for once, doesn’t cringe, his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes shut.

Conversation comes and goes, but mostly goes. The laundromat has a tranquil air about it when no voices to fill the gaps between machinery whirring. Eventually, the buzzer goes off on one of the driers, and the three of them jolt to attention before realizing it belongs to someone else. The three of them can be still for another moment more.

 

_ there’s no one else for me _

“Is that Channie?”

Soonyoung had been eyeing the boardwalk on the coast of the town they were staying in since the day they arrived—admittedly, it piqued Wonwoo’s interest too, and Soonyoung must’ve noticed, because he immediately promised they’d spend the day there together before they left. So spend the day there together they do. Initially, they wanted to take Chan as well, but Vernon had insisted the day they planned to go was a perfect day to surf. Looking at the beach from where they’re seated right off the boardwalk, Soonyoung and Wonwoo have to agree, even if neither of them surf.  The waves are sizable and not choppy. The issue is that there happens to be a boy straddling a board right in front of said waves, with swim trunks suspiciously similar to the ones Chan left the RV in earlier in the day.

Soonyoung squints upon hearing Wonwoo’s observation, scanning the shore aimlessly until Wonwoo points further into the water. Soonyoung gasps. “Is it?”

In that moment, a taller, lighter haired boy whirs by on a dying wave, effortlessly pivoting himself back and forth with his eyes locked the aforementioned sitting boy. That’s definitely Vernon, which means the other is definitely Chan. Wonwoo honestly didn’t think they’d choose the beach adjacent to the boardwalk, since it seemed like a date and all.

“It is,” Wonwoo says, “and Vernon too, see? He’s really good at surfing…”

“I didn’t expect anything else out of him.” Soonyoung laughs, resting his head in his hand on the shaky picnic table before them. When the next wave comes up behind him, Chan gets on his stomach and begins paddling with it, quickly, before hopping up in a squatting position. He wobbles a bit before planting his feet firmly on the board, standing carefully and making Soonyoung hold his breath—he’s up for a few seconds before tipping over sideways. Vernon paddles over much quicker than he probably needed to, but fusses over Chan when he pops out of the water anyway. Wonwoo swears he sees Soonyoung jump, too, as if he were going to run to the beach and pull him to shore himself. Chan is fine. Wonwoo wonders if it’s a blessing or a curse that even Chan’s boyfriend (boyfriend?) dotes on him. He gets enough from the two of them already…

“Do you think Vernon actually likes him?” Wonwoo ponders. His lips are pursed around a smoothie straw and Soonyoung scowls a bit.

“Of course he likes him, what are you on about?”

“I don’t know, it could just be, like. A summer thing for him.” The younger boys in the distance are carrying their boards out of the water. As Chan comes closer, Wonwoo sees his sheepish smile, like he’s preening, and Vernon knocking his shoulder into his with every other step. Wonwoo begins to wonder what love looks like.

“I know a good boy when I see one, babe. Trust me, he likes him a lot.” Maybe it looks like the tiny smile Soonyoung has, the one Wonwoo sees only one side of before looking back out towards the beach. Soonyoung clears his throat. “And what’s wrong with a summer thing? It could be like that for Channie, too.”

Maybe it looks like the way Vernon stares so intently at Chan while he speaks. When Wonwoo turns, he faces Soonyoung’s profile once again. “Just… when we leave Florida…”

“Ah.” Maybe it looks like Soonyoung’s foot nudging Wonwoo’s under the table, just to remind him of his presence. “You don’t want Channie to be heartbroken, then…”

Wonwoo hums. Maybe it looks like the way Vernon bends down to kiss Chan, once, twice, three times, before Chan has to pull away and hide his face in his hands, his arms squishing against his chest when Vernon pulls him into a hug. Maybe it looks like the seafoam grazing their ankles, the matching ruffled and wet hair, the blue sky, void of clouds. It’s a nice image. He wonders if he and Soonyoung’s love looks any different, any better or any worse.

“They’re so _cute,”_ Soonyoung whines, “I’m so happy.”

Soonyoung finally draws his eyes away from the beach to face Wonwoo, who’s very clearly deep in thought. Still, he's attentive, and his heart races when he catches Soonyoung’s gaze—if Wonwoo listens closely enough, he hears an echo of “I’m so happy,” directly in his ear. It’s not said aloud, just present in the softness behind Soonyoung’s eyelashes, the glimmer in his pupils, his upturned brows and lips, a joy that spreads down to his fingertips that drag across the table to rest on Wonwoo’s hand. Maybe it looks like that.

To Wonwoo, it looks like Soonyoung.

 

_goodbye_

It’s too beautiful of a day to leave so many things behind.

The reason Soonyoung doesn’t like staying in one city (one state, even) seems to be that he worries about getting attached to his surroundings. He has a tendency to get uneasy halfway through the second week of wherever they stay—at that point, they usually leave before the weekend comes. They’ve been in Florida for a bit over three weeks, which is apparently plenty enough time to fall in love.

Chan didn’t try to bargain with Soonyoung when he told him he wanted to leave. He just went quiet, accepted it, because he knew it’d happen eventually. Wonwoo happened to watching TV when Chan came home the afternoon they were due to leave. He’d spent the day with Vernon only to come home red-eyed and sulking, retiring to the loft bed at a measly 3:00pm. Wonwoo didn’t know what else to do but follow him up the ladder and let him lie on his chest until he either felt better or fell asleep. He falls asleep first, regrettably, and much too fast, as if he’d been exhausted by himself. Wonwoo is too restless to stay there, so he carefully removes himself, sits outside the RV under the awning until Soonyoung returns from the store and finishes packing up.

When he does come back, Wonwoo stops him before he goes inside, pleading with his eyes to leave Chan alone for a while. Soonyoung places the groceries beside the single lawn chair they’d yet to pack up, then sits down on the ground among them. He looks guilty—so, so guilty. And there’s really no logical reason for him to be—after all, it’s his money and his trip, Chan and Wonwoo just happen to be people he’s taken with him, no matter how close they all are. Wonwoo rubs Soonyoung’s back through his troubled sighs.

It’s easy to forget that Soonyoung is considerate. It’s easy to forget that he’s not always immediately aware that he hurts people. It’s easy to forget that Soonyoung is not perfect, considering all the time he spends trying to be. However, it’s hard to forget that he fails, sometimes. In this moment, Wonwoo isn’t hurt, but seeing Chan in his state has made him realize that he’s been hurt before. Through everything, the feeling lingers, simmers in Wonwoo’s chest and stings on days like this. There’s no solution to Chan’s problem, but if Wonwoo could stop being so imperfect himself, maybe he could talk his own issues out with Soonyoung...

His thoughts are interrupted when Soonyoung pulls a hard lemonade from one of the grocery bags and hands it up with a furrowed brow. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

Wonwoo grips his shoulder. “No, no. He knows it’s not your fault. It’s just… it sucks. He likes him a lot and there’s not much that can be done about it.” He frowns, passes his drink to Soonyoung so he can have a sip. Soonyoung probably wishes he could have a whole drink right now.

His fists clench. “We could stay another week—”

“That won’t help, Soonyoung. We leave either way.”

He just nods. Wordlessly, Soonyoung carries the groceries inside and again, Wonwoo follows, folding up the lawnchair and collapsing the awning on his way in. They’ll leave when the groceries are put away.

-

It’s a cruel coincidence that it starts raining as soon as they’re an hour out of town. The wipers are going so fast that Wonwoo can hardly see them and the droplets hit the sides of the RV so forcefully that he curls in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees in the passenger seat. Soonyoung hasn’t said a word since he started the RV—it’s unsettling. Typically, leaving to another town is a celebration, Chan playing music loudly in the back while Wonwoo keeps Soonyoung company in the cockpit. Now, it's like the world’s on mute and the rain is the white noise that remains. The silence is so prevalent that it seems to dilute any sound that disturbs it, turning Chan's footsteps into nothing but a suggestion of vibration. He could've been sitting in the living area for ages until Soonyoung noticed him.

Before speaking, he turns up the radio, keeping it soft and low. “Everything alright, Channie?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Soonyoung can't even begin to say sorry before Chan interrupts with a genuine “Thank you, hyung.”

As if on cue, the sun peeks between the clouds, shining right in Wonwoo’s eyes. He shields his eyes—the silence is no longer threatening, but he’s still tentative to interrupt it. As the road rolls by beside him, the trees become sparse enough for him to peer through them, and he smiles for the first time that day.

“There’s a rainbow,” Wonwoo’s not sure what made him feel like he had to whisper. He pokes the window absentmindedly and sees Soonyoung glance at him in the reflection of it.

He laughs. A small laugh, a laugh that soon joins Chan’s in a hushed chorus. Whether they’re laughing at Wonwoo’s spaciness or in elation at the rainbow itself doesn’t matter, it just matters that they’re laughing. That’s one thing Wonwoo’s pretty good at—he might have a hard time believing he brings any good luck to Soonyoung, but he can at least make him happy. Right? Wonwoo’s the lucky one. Having Soonyoung and Chan is just too fortunate.

The rain still pounds on the windshield—it doesn’t make the day any less beautiful. Wonwoo recognizes now that they’re not leaving that much behind, so long as they have each other.

 

_i don’t know anything about love_

North Florida retains some familiarity to South Florida. Perhaps Soonyoung stopped in Panama City for that reason—after all, they're all still human. There are times when they crave familiarity. It's not necessarily a desire to return to their hometown, more like a need for comfort and constancy. Wonwoo has found over the past three months that he needs a lot of that, both in his surroundings and in Soonyoung. Soonyoung just hasn't quite figured that out yet.

Wonwoo can tell Chan and Soonyoung have noticed him tense up gradually over time, but he doesn't know if they know why. The only way to fix anything is to talk to Soonyoung about it—Soonyoung’s great at talking about his feelings, which is comforting, but Wonwoo tends to freeze up, going quiet so he doesn't get too worked up. He thinks, for the most part, he can fool people into thinking he doesn't feel anything at all. It doesn't get past Soonyoung. The image of the worried upturn in his eyebrows stays burned on the inside of Wonwoo’s eyelids.

When Wonwoo beckons Soonyoung to the beach, the private one right across from their RV park, he begins to feel bad—he isn't unhappy. He's the happiest he's ever been, he just doesn't want to lose what he has. The thought of living a life without Soonyoung is terrifying. He'll never admit to that. He will, however, admit to worrying about Soonyoung’s commitment. Wonwoo knows he'd never cheat, but as a person, he's fleeting, unable to stay still. Wonwoo will follow Soonyoung around the country for as long as he can—he just knows there will be a day that he can't keep up with him. That is, if things remain the way they are.

It's breezy. Not enough to blow sand into Wonwoo’s face, but enough to muss up his hair and make the air smell of sea salt and sunlight. Soonyoung lies beside him with his shades on, arms behind his head and foot bouncing to an inaudible rhythm. Wonwoo trails his fingers across his stomach where his tank top has ridden up and Soonyoung coils in on himself, smiling broadly and swatting his hand away. His head turns.

“Did you need something?”

There are a few ways Wonwoo could phrase this. A question is likely best, Wonwoo thinks, but he doesn't want to be too complex or too blunt. His mind races. What does he need? Validation? Confirmation? He blushes when he blurts the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Can you see yourself marrying me?”

Soonyoung sits up and takes his sunglasses off in one movement. There’s that look—the furrowed brows and pouting lips. Wonwoo’s throat is closing up already.

“What?” Soonyoung sounds heartbroken. He situates himself so he's sitting right across from Wonwoo, cross-legged, their knees touching. “Yes, Wonwoo, of course. Of course I can see myself marrying you, I’ve wanted to marry you since the day I met you. Do you... babe, look at me.” Wonwoo didn't realize how far he'd tipped his head up to keep tears from falling. Why is he so emotional? “Do you doubt that?”

“I…” He chokes a bit trying to get another word out. Soonyoung pulls his hands from his lap, a non verbal promise that he'll do all the talking.

“I love you.” He says sternly, eyes warm and fingers curling around Wonwoo’s knobby knuckles. He allows himself to think after clearing that up, maintaining eye contact the entire time—Wonwoo has a really hard time not crying. “I know I’m not a serious person, but I’m serious about you. I’ve been… I’ve neglected you lately, haven’t I?”

The trademark tingle that burns his tear ducts comes back in full force, makes his eyes shiny and his nose runny despite the heat. He doesn’t shed tears, just looks up and blinks them back into his eyes once again. When he tilts his head back down, Soonyoung is there, leant in and kissing the corner of his mouth. His hand finds his cheek, thumbing over the fullest part of it as lovingly as he can muster.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to travel the country if it wasn’t with you. You’re my good luck charm. And it's not just because you were the one who said I should buy a lottery ticket.” Soonyoung speaks gingerly, only a bit above his breath, though the beach is void of people. “Because, like, I don't care about the money. I’m just… nothing makes me as happy as you do. I guess that makes me the lucky one? I don't know. Like, this is fun and all, but I wouldn't be _happy_ if you weren't here. Like, if we lived in a little apartment and had normal jobs and stuff, it might not be as fun, but I’d still be happy. Because it’s you.”

Wonwoo can’t speak, so he just hums, looking down at where Soonyoung is squeezing his hands once again. Soonyoung laughs through his nose, short and breathy, at nothing in particular. It makes Wonwoo feel better, somehow, like Soonyoung feels silly for even having to clarify—it’s a strange thing to feel comforted by being wrong, but Wonwoo feels it beside the security that Soonyoung instills in him with the way his thumb grazes over the back of his hand.

Soonyoung picks up where he left off, but stares into Wonwoo’s eyes less intensely. “I want it to be you, always. But I also think getting married would make more sense if we weren’t living in an RV, don’t you think so?”

“Probably.” Wonwoo mutters. It hardly sounds like words, but Soonyoung nods anyway.

“And if we’re still living on the road when we want to get married, then we’ll figure it out. Okay?” Soonyoung flashes him a smile where only his two front teeth show.

Looking at Soonyoung then, Wonwoo thinks that he is certainly the Soonyoung he fell in love with and that he never stopped being the Soonyoung he fell in love with—this Soonyoung, with the sand between his toes and the sun lighting his eyes as if he’s glowing from within, is the same Soonyoung that he leaned against while sat on a picnic table overlooking their hometown around the same time last year. Soonyoung is not unchanging, but he has his own constants, an air of steadiness that Wonwoo needs to be reminded of. His head, as it does, falls heavily onto Soonyoung’s shoulder, his arms reaching around to his back. Soonyoung, rather than just letting himself be held, urges Wonwoo to scoot closer so he can hug him back. Soonyoung is the one who’s crying now, a few stray tears falling silently onto his cheek, but he shushes Wonwoo nonetheless, smoothing down his shirt and whispering into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. You don't ever have to worry about that stuff, okay? I've met a lot of people and you're still my favorite.” Soonyoung loosens his grip for comfort’s sake, turning his head so his mouth is closer to Wonwoo’s ear. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

It’s now that it begins to feel cinematic. After everything, it’s strange that Wonwoo’s heart tightens in this moment—this moment, where the seagulls cry out over the roar of a particularly mighty wave, one that threatens to climb upshore to Wonwoo’s side. This must be what falling in love feels like. All this time, Wonwoo hadn’t really known. He hadn’t known that it could happen this quickly or that it could happen more than once with the same person, and he especially hadn’t known that all those cheesy teenage romance films held some genuity to them, those grand scenes where it happens so beautifully, an orchestra appearing out of nowhere to reinforce it, to do it justice.

Wonwoo nods. He breathes in, less shaky now, and murmurs “Yes, I love you too.”

Soonyoung slumps against him once more. “We’re on the same page, then.”

 

_breezin’_

They make it to Arizona, like Wonwoo had suggested all that time ago. It had taken a while—a lot more driving than stopping to smell the roses, but as it happens, all the roses Wonwoo wanted to smell were there. Metaphorical roses, that is. There’s not much to smell but cacti where they’re staying. Thirty or so hours of driving took them a pretty big chunk of Chan’s sophomore year, and as spring rolls around there, it’s still hot as ever where Soonyoung and Wonwoo are—Soonyoung’s solution to this is to sneakily drive the RV up under a looming mesquite tree, then lying on the roof under its shade, limbs spread out like a starfish and eyes half-lidded, occasionally calling down to Wonwoo. He’s seated neatly at a picnic table between the RV and the tree, struggling to read with the patchy sunlight filtered through the leaves. What hinders him the most, though, is Soonyoung’s insistence on speaking to him. It’s not bothersome, more endearing than anything—he likes talking to Soonyoung just as much as he likes reading. Maybe it’s because Soonyoung comes up with so many stories to tell. Presently, he rattles off this story of this guy he met at the bar—

Soonyoung’s story isn’t bothersome, but his phone ringing is. And the story was just getting good…

There’s a gasp, then a crackling on the other end when it’s put on speaker. “Hyung? You picked up… I forgot it’s lunchtime there, I thought you’d be out…”

Ah, it’s Channie. Wonwoo closes his book and gets up with a start, scaling the ladder on the side of the RV the quickest he can muster. Soonyoung beams up at him, then at his phone, and Chan is there on his screen. He’s walking along what Wonwoo assumes is a path on his campus. There are blossoming trees—he’d almost forgotten about those. Even the tree he and Soonyoung are under is uncommon around their parts, so far southwest.

Soonyoung says hello to him far too many times, asking about his day and whether or not he ate. Wonwoo reclines against him a bit when he props himself up on an elbow, pushing his face into frame. Chan waves subtly.

“Are you seeing Vernon for spring break?” Wonwoo asks. Chan looks down and smiles to himself.

“Yeah, I was calling to say that my break starts today…”

“Be responsible!” Soonyoung demands. Chan rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been buying me alcohol since I was seventeen, hyung.”

Soonyoung scrunches his nose. “...A responsible amount.”

Chan sighs. “I guess that’s fair.” Wonwoo giggles to himself. There’s a beat of silence before the conversation picks up again. “Are you still going to fly me down to you so we can pick up where we left off?”

“Absolutely.” Soonyoung tilts his head in thought for a moment, counting weeks in his head. “We might be in California by then, or maybe Nevada. Vegas would be fun... “

Chan shakes his head. “Get me a souvenir, then?”

Soonyoung had taken that one seriously. Wonwoo blinks and he’s getting out of the rental car in front of some quirky gift shop, in what appears to have previously been a gas station. He giggles mirthfully, seemingly pleased with his decision, the bell above the door tinkling in agreement. Wonwoo doesn’t even know where to begin when they’re inside—useless knick knacks are strewn everywhere and there doesn’t seem to be an attendant around. He wanders towards the back, not expecting Soonyoung to follow, but he does, resting a hand at the bottom of Wonwoo’s back.

They stop in front of an array of things—wooden statuettes of nearly indiscernible animals, strange soaps, little silk bags of rocks, and most pointedly, a ship in a bottle. Soonyoung immediately reaches for it, but pulls away before fingerprinting it. His face twists up like he’s seriously pondering something. Wonwoo fondly watches him stare at it for a bit before stepping away—he finds himself restricted. Soonyoung had tugged on his sleeve.

“You know what I was thinking?”

Should Wonwoo be excited or afraid? Soonyoung’s ideas have a tendency to be nice in theory, but outlandish in practice. His finger trails along the wooden stand the bottle sits on. “What were you thinking?” Wonwoo asks.

He mutters a few words, barely above a whisper. “...A house boat.”

“A house boat?” Wonwoo grins helplessly. “How often would you want to move marinas? That’d get really expensive…” Soonyoung’s got a lot of money, but it won’t last him forever.

Soonyoung shakes his head for no reason at all. He’s completely zoned out—that’s definitely something he learned from Wonwoo. He rambles to himself, letting go of Wonwoo’s sleeve and further admiring the tiny ship. “A four-poster bed with a canopy… one of those old fashioned ship’s wheels in the living room…” Wonwoo just ruffles his hair and walks towards the t-shirts. His only issue with that is that he can’t think of any conceivable way to fit a four-poster bed in a boat, no matter how homey it is.

Soonyoung buys that ship in a bottle and keeps the box in his lap the entire drive back to the RV—the entire drive home. When they get there, birds fly from the mesquite tree in a flock that speckles the sky, barren of clouds, and Wonwoo feels nostalgic.

 

_the way you look tonight_

It was all very fast. He didn’t necessarily doubt Soonyoung, but he didn’t believe him either—what matters is that Wonwoo wasn’t surprised when Soonyoung managed to rent a houseboat by the end of June, that it felt real. That’s what surprises him. He lives his life rather than watches it. Soonyoung carries the last box from the RV, all the way from a private lot off to the side of the marina, and it strikes a chord with him. There’s no realizing how fortunate he is anymore, just a deep appreciation, paired with a smile returned when Soonyoung steps onto the deck.

There’s no radio in the front of the boat like there was in the RV, so the record player is placed in an outcrop near the front, within reach of the wheel. They’ll have to build up a record collection—for now, Soonyoung unsheathes the ones they had previously hung up for decoration, glancing over them briefly before blowing the dust off of one and placing it gently on the player. He’s ridiculously flushed when it begins, turning to Wonwoo and holding out a hand.

It’s cheesy. Wonwoo will admit that, but he rises from the bed anyway, padding across the floorboards and finding home in Soonyoung’s arms. When his own wrap around Soonyoung’s neck, he looks to their feet and smiles to himself, the warmth felt even when Wonwoo can only see the front of his hair. He comes back up and Wonwoo catches his gaze for a moment, squinted shut in elation. With Soonyoung still in his shoes and Wonwoo barefoot, they’re nearly the same height, unable to avoid staring straight at one another. It’s nice, intimate. They rock back and forth, slowly, as if mimicking the deck below their feet.

Wonwoo almost feels guilty that he’s glad about Chan not being with them yet—he’d surely give them a hard time for being so mushy. He’s running his fingers through Soonyoung’s hair now, and he’s practically melting between Wonwoo’s fingers, urging closer with each sway of their bodies. It ends up being more of a hug than a dance, with Soonyoung’s face buried into the crook of his neck and Wonwoo moving his arms to his waist to hold him tightly. His face is there when Wonwoo closes his eyes, the face of someone bright and beautiful and more than he could’ve ever hoped for, the face of a person he’d love to marry.

The song stops, and while Wonwoo’d like it to continue, they’re fine in silence. The night gets dark enough for the lights of the marina to turn on—Soonyoung’s fingers press firmly into Wonwoo’s sides as they do. Wonwoo can taste the hard lemonade, can smell the burnt out tea candles in his first-year college dorm.

Soonyoung stills. “Are you glad you didn’t go alone?”

Wonwoo wonders who really won the lottery, given everything.

“I’m lucky I didn’t have to.”


End file.
